Building castles in the air

I met Noah at the start of my last semester of college and it was like I entered the chaotic phase of a pendulum with many balls, I could not seem to make sense of anything anymore.

Noah, as I later found out, was embarking on his last semester of a Master’s program in computer engineering, and I was hoping to finish my last semester of a Bachelors in Science with a major in nursing. I am still wondering, though, how I never met or even saw him before this last semester. We had even, it turned out, had a course in leadership together, our second year.

Noah was one of those ruggedly handsome guys, eyes shining with curiosity, hair that seemed untameable, teeth that had just the slightest crooked-ness to them – enough to know he was mortal – and a smile that made me pause as if my soul tried to reboot my entire being.

I was going through a stage of being so fed up with my studies, performing badly on tests, like barely scraping D’s and E’s and I was so angry all the time. I was carrying a volume of rage around like emotional back fat and I could never really put my finger on why. Why was I so angry? The anger and - let’s be honest -fear, was like benchpressing emotional damage and deadlifting regrets. I was exhausted and furious. Not a good combination when meeting the Adonis of the mortal coils.

“Hey, I know you!” he exclaimed when we bumped into each other in the corridor. I was headed to Nursing Research class, and lord alone knows where he was going. All I know is, I was not in the mood for pleasantries, nor was I emotionally capable.

“Well, bully for you!” I blurted out before I got a proper look at his face. He looked taken aback for a second, then he smiled and, well, I felt it in my molars. I was smitten. Just like that. Just from a smile.

“You’re in a hurry, I can tell.” He said, touching my arm. The heat spread like wildfire from that spot on my arm right to my heart. “But I know we’ve met before. Was it in Leadership class, maybe?”

I had no idea at that point, but it turned out that he was right, of course. I just sort of sighed and tried to rearrange the creases on my forehead and between my eyebrows, to form some sort of smile, back.

“Yes, you might be right.” I felt the warmth of shame spread across my face and just stood there, as I came to realize, panting like a golden retriever with asthma.

He laughed quietly. The unspoken promise of what could be hung in the air exactly the way bricks don’t.

“You’re Heather, right?” I tried not to let my lower jaw sag in disbelief when he said this, because how on earth could he remember that? It had been 18 months since we last, supposedly, had a class together.

“I am. I mean, yes!” I blurted out, realizing with horror that a tiny bit of spittle landed on his shirt. For a brief moment I deliberated whether to acknowledge this, or ignore it. I chose the latter. Thankfully, if he had even noticed it, he decided to do the same.

“Listen, I know you probably have class, and I do too, but would you like to go for a coffee this afternoon?” It was like a heavenly choir was singing Ave Maria in the back of my head. I swooned. Yes, I said it. I swooned.

“That would be awesome!”

My good gentle Zeus, “awesome”?? I wanted to slap myself. I managed to control that emotion, though.

He scribbled something on a piece of paper, and stuck it in my hand as I stood there like a forklift with a pulse, staring up at his green eyes in awe.

“Call me after class, we’ll firm something up!” he said, and turned on his heels, hurrying down the corridor. He turned around to wave about 30 seconds later, and I was livid with myself that I still stood there, his note in my hand, jaw on my chest. As he turned back around, I finally snapped out of it and, checking to see that he had really put his phone number on the note – he had, and his name, too – I folded the note carefully, put it in my jean pocket and went to class. I just managed to get in on time, too. The doors to this classroom could only be opened by students on the inside, and by teachers with a key. So, I was lucky to make it, on time.

When class was over, I closed my empty notebook and peered around as if I had just woken up. I could not, still to this day, tell you what the lecture was about, because all I could think of were those green eyes, and those slightly imperfect teeth. The classroom emptied as I just sat there, feeling like something big was about to happen and it was overwhelming. Should I really act on this sudden opportunity? What if he found out that I’m just a pretty face, with no substance behind it? What if I found out he was? What if we got together and all we did was fight and argue? What if it turned out that he was a narcissist and I would spend the next few years trying to avoid being ground down and left full of self-loathing? What if he was a womanizer? What if he wasn’t really “the one”?

I stuck my hand in my jean pocket, and plucked out the note he had given me. He had written his name, Noah, and his phone number on it, and in the corner was a smiley face. Had he really had time to write all that in that short time? Or was the note already prepared, for whomever he decided was worthy of it, and he just pretended to scribble all that information on it? Was this less of a moment, and more of a movement? Was I supposed to figure out there was a scam behind it, and it just took time for me to get there?

I held the note in my hand, and slowly my fingers closed in on it, crumpling it inside my fist like a fly being inexorably squashed by a newspaper. I opened my hand again, and stared at it. No sir, I was not going to fall for this, this scam. I looked around the room and found the wastebasket next to the lecturn where the teacher had just talked about.. something. With a feeling of finality, a cold that spread from the pit of my stomach throughout my whole body, I sauntered up to the wastebasket and, opening my hand, I dropped the crumpled note into it. For an eternity it fell, hitting the bottom with a quiet but ominous thud. I turned around with steely determination, and left the classroom. As the door shut behind me, I regretted my decision instantly. However, as I came to find out, once that door was shut, I could not open it. There was nothing I could do. So, it must have been the right decision? Right??